/mike

I'm about to have a Turkey lunch with my family, followed by a Turkey dinner with family friends. At my last turkey dinner, Mel and I talked about the three most live changing moments of our lives. I dunno if they are in the top top three, but I immediately thought of the night I met Cindy, and the period where I decided to major in Urban Studies and Planning. Thinking about those times is trumping the stress of the season, and putting me in the right spirit of things.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Cindy and I had a very “hairy years” weekend – meaning over extending ourselves with activities in too short a period of time. For example, Sunday included: church, best buy, car wash, supermarket, haircut, skidazzle, pre-thanksgiving party, and first run through The Two Towers (Platinum Series Special Extended Edition). By the end of the night, Cindy said that I was sporting a triple eyelid.

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In other news: The Angels signed their first off season free agent, Kelvim Escobar. The move was par for the course for a Bill Stoneman run roster; he filled a need with above average talent that doesn’t break the bank. I like the move because he is young and should improve simply by leaving the astro turf of Toronto and playing on the grass in Anaheim (2.84 grass ERA vs. 5.51 turf ERA). I also expect the Angels to sign another outfielder, but I’m secretly hoping that the halos sign Japanese league phenom, Kazuo Matsui. It's a long shot but I’m guessing that he will keep Cindy's interest during games.

Scroll down to see his picture.

Happy birthday, Cindy.

love,
Me

Mrs. Y’s son works as a private property manager/financial planner. He and his wife invited me over for dinner last night. We watched the NBA and ate salmon as he cracked jokes about government waste and gave me his financial pitch. Apparently, I really should have started my Roth IRA a long time ago.

One interesting piece of information relayed to me is that my deferred compensation retirement plan (from work) wasn’t as safe as I had thought. If LA goes bankrupt, they can break open my piggy bank for their own use. It happened to Enron, but more importantly, it happened to Orange County too. I better keep my ears peeled, just in case.

So today, I read a pessimistic article in The Economist about the probability that many nations are on their way to going bust. Afterwards, I glance over to CNN and read about the new Medicare bill that helps discount prescription drugs for seniors. This entitlement is actually being pushed by Republicans, of all people. I’m still all for government helping those who can’t help themselves; It was just an interesting sequence of tidbits thrown my way.

Cindy has taken up skateboarding for fun again. She’s been telling me about the history of skating, noting the many peaks and valleys in skateboard popularity. I’ve been telling her how a combination of parents, lawyers, and planners established zoning laws that have in effect outlawed skateboarding from the public domain.

When I was 11, I used to skate too. It was probably because a lot of kids I knew skated after Friday night youth group. My parents bought me a board from Price Club. It was wide, with breaks. On the bottom, it read “Kamakazi!” in sharp Asian styled letters.

One night at youth group, I was involved in an incident that resulted in skating getting banned from that church. Everyone was riding around when I saw my buddy “M” accidentally trip into a shallow puddle of water. “C”, a girl who was a year older than me, saw what happened and laughed. In her defense, she tells me that she said “how sad”. Nevertheless, I was so outraged that I walked up behind her, and thrust my Kamakazi! board right into her back.

The incident caused such an outrage among the adults that next week, it was announced that skateboarding was banned from the church.

Looking back, this story is pretty funny. But on another level, I find it to be a typical example of some people. Those parents/counselors already had it in for skateboarding from the start. It was always considered a nuisance, especially since it interfered with other recreational activities. Even if their concern was valid, the incident was not a good reason to prohibit the recreational use. It was unfair to me, and the girl. What if I threw a basketball? Or a chair? Bottom line, it was not intellectually honest. Man alive, thinking about this really chaps my hide.

Maybe I was hanging by a thread and maybe I wasn’t, but it took four months to confirm that I’m not on the road to getting sent back to my old job with my tail between my legs.

“D” is meeting with all of his staff to discuss work assignments. When he mentioned that he had not yet written my 4 month evaluation, I asked him how I was doing. He told me that from his point of view, I had resolved the issues that came up earlier. To boot, he had even heard some positive feedback from members of the community. There are two months left, but this was clearly the good news that I very much needed to hear. This is a load off my back. While I’ve got plenty of time left, I also probably don’t need to be as paranoid as I used to be.

As things currently stand, I’ll be working on the comprehensive “P” master plan next year. I’m looking forward to it.

My ankle was swollen the size of a softball. I lay on the ground as the guys finished the rest of the game. “R” got some ice and stuffed it down my sock. He asked me if it was too cold, but it still felt hot.

Until then, I had never really hurt myself this seriously playing basketball. I remember thinking that it had something to do with the oversized width of my feet. They are quite hobbit-like, but without the hair.

My luck had finally run out, and at a very inopportune moment, to say the least. I was hoping it would get better, so I sat in the locker room as everyone else showered and dressed for work. I called the office to let them know I would be a little late. Afterwards, the question remained - how was I going to get back to my desk?

Eventually I asked “D” to help me to my car. He dropped me off in front of the garage since his car didn’t fit the entrance. I hopped on one foot to my car. Once inside, I thought about what to do. Part of me felt defeated. This was all taking too long and I didn’t expect my boss or coworkers to be very sympathetic to my plight. Another part of me felt was more detached and wanted to be like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill. Both parts knew what I had to do. So after putting on my dress shirt, I slowly pulled my slacks over my shoes (which I couldn’t take off), swollen ankle, and shorts. I had to bunch up my pant leg and pull it over my shoe a few millimeters at a time. All in all, I got dressed in about half an hour.

I wasn’t able to put my foot down on the ground, so I hopped from my car to the office. “J” saw me in the elevator and took pity on me. Despite my protests, she got me a chair and rolled me to my cubicle. Thankfully this was the Thursday before Halloween and other employees were dressed up; People expected funny looking situations at work. Once we got to my desk, I checked in with my co-workers and told them my sob story. I was offered a few Tylenol (I took 4), and sat at my desk trying to get back to work. Sitting there, I felt sticky because I hadn’t showered, my ankle was hot, throbbing and wet, and I hurt like hell. A half hour later, my discomfort overwhelmed my fear of not passing probation. I swallowed my pride and told everyone I was going home.

I was motivated because of the Thursday before, when I couldn’t hit an open shot if my life depended on it. I threw up brick after brick. I blew a fast break layup. I was winded before the third possession. "R", a trash talker, kept playing mind games with me, saying I couldn’t make a shot. Now, I don’t mind if my game isn’t going well on the offensive side, but I couldn’t do the little things either. On three separate occasions, I came down with a rebound and was immediately tied up. "A" put the pressure on, reached, swiped, and grabbed at me, calling “first” before he even got a second hand on the ball. By the third time, not only was I calling foul, but I was wrestling myself onto the ground – looking silly doing it too.

Back at desk, I told myself that I like playing basketball. This is fun. Next time, I’ll grip the ball hard, flare my elbows out, and twist my body to keep the harassers away.

The following Tuesday, I was much more satisfied with my play. I hit some medium range shots, my specialty (or limitation), and played an all around game. But "R" wasn’t guarding me. This time, I had the trash talker on my team, encouraging me to keep shooting whenever I wanted. "A" was on my team too, harassing other guys this time. So despite the good game, it wasn’t necessarily what I was looking for.

When Thursday came around again, I was looking forward to the game. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to score on "R", or protect the ball from "A". Instead, I went up for a rebound, landed on "H's" foot and severely sprained my ankle.

That was two weeks ago. Today is my first day off crutches.

In a sudden swell of paranoia, I've made some slight changes.

Blogging has become a stranger to me. My new little friends are my crutches. Thankfully, I've made some progress on my ankle - being able to put weight on it.

The current Tower Records sale is great - new releases for $9.99! It reminded me of the days when I almost exclusively shopped at the Del Mar/Lake Tower. My great music binge, which has been finally hit the point where it is temporarily satiated.

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Yesterday, Victor came by to treat my ankle. It was incredibly comforting to have my oldest friend help me out. My concept of treatment was turned upside down when he stated in no uncertain terms that I need to be moving my ankle. He taught me a bunch of exercises and was completely professional as I yelped like a frightened chiwawa chihuahua.

You can't imagine the relief I feel to be home. Boys have a low tolerance for pain and I'm no different. In fact, I'm probably more of a wuss than normal. I'm so sick of sucking it up at work. I can't wait to be completely lazy and simply elevate and ice, ice and elevate.

I also want to see the Matrix Revolutions. But... damnit. I also want to get my car maintained. Shit.

I can hardly think straight.

These are all the blogs I wanted to write but don't have patience to properly think about.

A book review in the Economist touched on something that annoys me. It sums up American political parties as: Republicans favor the rich, and Democrats favor the poor. Did they spell it "favour"? Anyway, that's why I'll never say I'm a full on Republican. What will people think? I'd rather state my stance on each individual issue, damnit.

I also read an amazing Clinton interview. That guy is incredible. If you don't have time to read the link, here is his final line, But we've got to fight. And we gotta look like we're havin' a good time doing it.. Wouldn't that immediately solve 40% of the donkey candidates problems?

I admire him in a tragic sort of way. The most insightful article I read about the guy was in Esquire (GQ?) on playing golf with Bill. To sum it up, after a day of golf with Bill, the author writes that Clinton is incredibly charismatic, intelligent, and talented. He also cheats (on his score), believes his own cheats, and is his own worse enemy.

From a review I just read:

"Revolutions" eats all of the goodwill built up by "The Matrix," and then some. It isn't just bad moviemaking--it's a bizarrely self-destructive film.

I'm hoping that the good source material for LOTR will save that series.